A Long Time Ago
by Juniper Watershadow
Summary: Emma Jones first met Walter Kovacs when they were ten years old. They became a sort of friends up until Child Services came to take Walter away.
1. Chapter 1

It was cold when Emma and her brother Michael arrived at the park. The sun was about to sink below the horizon and the wind had picked up so it nipped their faces. The playground was completely deserted, and the snow on the ground made it seem more barren. Emma pulled her hat down to cover her ears as the wind blew in her face.

Michael looked up at her with a sour expression. "Cold," he said, wrapping his arms around himself.

Emma bent down and straightened his jacket. "I'm sorry, Mike, I know. We can go home when Dad calms down a bit, okay?"

Michael nodded his head. "Swing?" he asked.

Emma smiled and nodded. "Sure, Mike. I'll push you." She let him pull her in the direction of the swing set. It had only two seats, each a bright cherry red and hanging by two rusty chains. The ground underneath them was muddy from the constant kicking of children.

Michael brushed some snow off of one swing and settled on top of it. "Push," he said.

Emma chuckled and started to gently push him. Michael giggled as he started to gain momentum, swinging higher and higher so he could see above the entire playground. It wasn't very big or extravagant; it had a swing set, a see-saw, a sandbox that was filled with dirt and bacteria from random strangers, and a faded merry-go-round. Several trees surrounded the playground, all dead and sinister from winter's curse. The wind continued to pick up as it grew darker. The sky was now a grayish-pink color, so she knew the streetlamps would turn on soon.

As she continued to push Michael, Emma caught something out of the corner of her eye. There was a thick tree several feet away, and behind it she spotted someone watching them. She saw red hair, a patchy wool coat, and a book bag resting over one shoulder. The person looked around the tree and Emma saw who it was.

It was Walter, her neighbor from across the street. She had seen him a few times outside his house, walking around aimlessly and staring at the ground. She knew he lived with his mother and he was an only child. He was her age and they went to the same school, but other than that she knew nothing about him. She assumed he knew that she saw him, but he continued to stare. Emma turned her attention back to Michael, who hadn't noticed the unexpected visitor. She still felt his gaze on them, and she didn't want to be rude.

"Hey, Walter?" she called. He flinched, but he didn't respond. "That's your name, right? Do you want to join us?"

He took a hesitant step out from behind the tree, gripping his book bag tighter. Emma waited patiently for him to come closer, but he looked…afraid. She decided to try to talk to him a bit, and if he still didn't want to speak, then that was fine with her. "What are you doing out here, anyway?" Walter looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet. "It's cold. Your mother must be worried about you."

"Doubt it," he mumbled. He looked back up and slowly made his way to her and Michael. "Too busy to care." He stopped and leaned against one of the swing set poles.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, pushing Michael again.

"No. Cold doesn't bother me," he glanced up at her. His expression was blank, as if he were a robot.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've never really introduced myself," she started.

"No need. Emma Jones. Lives across the street with alcoholic father and brother."

"You're right," she said hesitantly. A moment later, she said, "You know, it's kind of weird. We've lived across the street from each other for years and we've never formally met."

"I guess," he looked down at his shoes. The wind picked up again, but this breeze was stronger than the last. Emma looked up and saw that all the streetlamps were on.

"We should probably go back inside," she said, grabbing for Michael's swing. "It's getting late." When Michael got off of his swing, he saw Walter and quickly looked up at Emma.

"Who that?" he pointed at Walter, who was looking at him like he was a specimen under a microscope.

"This is Walter Kovacs, Mike. He lives across the street from us, remember?" she took Michael's hand.

"Oh. Hi, Walter," he smiled.

Walter nodded his head. "Michael."

"We should be getting back. Will you walk with us?" she asked Walter.

He looked unsure of what to do, but then he reluctantly nodded his head and said, "Sure."

The three of them walked in silence back to their neighborhood. The houses were dead quiet, which was a rare thing since somebody was either fighting or drinking or causing trouble. Emma glanced at Walter a few times, but he was scanning the area around him, like he was a cop or something. When they arrived at their houses, Emma turned to Walter and said, "It was nice talking to you, Walter. I hope we can do this again soon."

Walter simply said, "Nice meeting you, Emma Jones. Stay safe, you and Michael." With those parting words, he turned his back on them and walked across the street towards his house. Emma looked up at where he lived and saw the silhouette of what she assumed was his mother on the top floor. When Walter went inside, she picked Michael up and together they went back into their house.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Emma's dad woke up while they were at school and left for work, a small flask hidden in the pocket of his stained overalls. He always brought alcohol with him when he went to work, no matter how many times he was caught and threatened to be fired. It was Emma's job to take care of Michael and get him out of the house before their father got up and had one of his moods. They both went to the same school, so she could easily keep an eye on him. She saw Walter a few times, realizing that he was in her class in the last row, fourth seat from the front. She attempted to say hello to him, but all he would do is glance and nod. She caught on quick that he wasn't the type for small talk.

Their teacher droned on about the Civil War, nearly putting Emma and half the class to sleep. By the time school let out for the day, Emma felt exhausted as she waited for Michael to come outside. She wiped a few strands of hair out of her face and looked back up. Walter was walking out of the building with his book bag slung over his shoulder. She attempted to get his attention, but he appeared to be distracted, as if he were intent on running from something. A moment later, she saw what that something was.

Royce Johnson and Billy McNair exited the school and immediately spotted Walter. They pushed and shoved their way through the crowd and surrounded him. The two of them were much taller than Walter, both of them were sixteen and in their last year at the school. Royce was a football player and Billy was a slacker, but that didn't mean they were stupid either. Billy grabbed Walter's book bag and threw it down the steps as Royce got right in his face and started talking. Emma couldn't really make out what was being said, but it wasn't pretty. A few seconds later, Royce shoved Walter to the ground as several people stopped and stared.

Without even thinking, Emma dropped her bag and ran over to Walter's side. He looked pretty pissed and ready to fight, but his expression completely dissolved when Emma came over. She looked Royce straight in the eye and said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Well, well, looks like the ginger here found himself a girlfriend," Royce gave an evil grin as he reached for Emma's coat. "And to think this whole time I thought you only got stiff for cock."

"You're acting like a total douche bag, you know that? You're a fucking joke!" Emma retorted as she slapped his hand away. "Only assholes who are too pathetic for life bully others just to make themselves feel good!"

"Gee, you're one to talk, you know," Royce towered over her. "Just because your daddy's a drunk doesn't give you the right to come over here and interfere with our business!"

"You know what," Emma got right in his face. "You have no fu—"

"She's not my girlfriend," Walter finally interrupted as he stood up. "She's just some girl who lives on my street."

"She certainly acts like it," Billy said, eyeing Emma. "Don't worry, Waltie boy. We'll deal with her as soon as we deal with you." He grabbed Emma's collar and threw her down on the steps.

Emma banged her knees and hands on the steps, but she didn't notice. Royce was just about to punch Walter when a teacher sprang out of the building. He grabbed Royce and Billy by their shirts, a long string of threats following as he led them back inside. Before they disappeared, Royce glanced back one last time at Walter and Emma, a cold look emanating from his eyes. When they were gone and the crowd had dispersed a bit, Emma retrieved her book bag as Walter got his. She went up to him and said, "Are you okay, Walter?"

"You're incredibly stupid, you know that?" he glared at her.

She swallowed. "W-What do you mean?"

"Those two are dangerous, whether anyone believes what they hear or not. Now that you've made yourself known to them, they'll be watching you."

Before she could respond, she heard a small voice call her. "Emma!" said Michael as he walked down the steps with his book bag. He hugged her legs as she patted his head.

"Hey, Mike. How was school?"

"Good. Hi, Walter," he grinned.

Walter only nodded his head and looked back at Emma. "Watch yourself from now on. It's not you that'll be in trouble, but him too," he nodded towards Michael.

"I highly doubt they'll be stupid enough to come after a six year old boy," Emma said as she grabbed Michael's hand and walked down the sidewalk. Walter followed after them. "Besides, I'm not afraid of Royce Johnson and Billy McNair. They're just a couple of jerks who'll end up flipping burgers for the rest of their lives."

"You just don't get it," Walter rolled his eyes. "And here I thought them bullying me was a dangerous thing."

"Why is bullying you dangerous?" Emma stopped at a stop sign.

"Never mind," Walter mumbled, staring down at his feet.

Emma leaned on her leg and looked Walter up and down. "You're quite an enigma, you know that, Walter?"

"Don't know what you mean," he replied as the crossing guard gave the okay to cross. "Considering you barely know me, that's called jumping to conclusions."

"Maybe you're right," she said as they made it to the other side. They were only a few blocks from their houses, and she was dreading going back. Michael was silent the entire time they talked and had managed to keep up as they all walked on the sidewalk. Emma kept glancing down at him, checking to make sure he was okay. It wasn't bitter outside, but the chill was still around. When they finally reached their neighborhood and were forced to part, Emma saw a woman outside of Walter's house. She was putting trash into a metal trash can, wearing a big ratty coat and black high heels. She glanced up and saw the three of them walking closer, and then disappeared back into the house.

Emma looked at Walter, whose face had turned very grim. She said softly, "Was that your mom?"

He nodded. "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Emma." He trudged up to his house, up the steps and through the door.

Emma looked down at Michael and said, "Come on, Mike. Let's get inside." They walked across the street to their house. When they got inside, Emma was relieved to see that her father wasn't home from work yet, though the place reeked of alcohol. She and Michael settled at the living room table, pushing empty beer cans aside to make room. Emma did her homework silently while Mike turned on the television, counting down the hours until her father returned.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days after the incident at school, Emma's father exploded. She and Michael were watching television, thinking that their father was sleeping in his room. He banged his way down the stairs with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He glared at his children while under his drunken spell and snapped. He started yelling, hurling his bottle at Michael's head. Emma grabbed her brother and they ducked onto the floor. Their father knocked over the coat stand, a stool, even the television. Emma looked at the clock; it read 9 o'clock at night. She didn't want to go outside with Michael, especially when it was so cold. But their father was acting more violent than usual, and she wouldn't let him hurt her brother.

While their father screamed his way into the kitchen, Emma quickly grabbed their coats and quickly helped a frightened Michael into his. She tugged his hat over his head and slung her own coat under her arm. As their father made his way back into the living room, Emma made a dash for the door with her brother. Before she could tug it open, her father whipped her around and struck her hard across her cheek. She fell back against the door as he lunged for Michael. Emma quickly knocked herself into him so he fell against the television. She picked up Michael and bolted out the door before her father could get up.

Outside, the cold was bitter. She carried Michael down the street towards the playground, their only source of light from the streetlamps above. It wasn't until they were on the edge of the playground when she realized she didn't have her coat; she had dropped it when her father slapped her. The wind was freezing and she shivered in her wool sweater. Emma tried to focus on Michael, fixing his coat and checking to see if he had any injuries. She felt extremely lucky that he had survived this long without a mark from their father. Emma touched her cheek, the area tender and sure to be purple the next day.

She looked around and shivered. It would take at least an hour for her father to calm down and fall asleep. It was freezing and she would most likely get frostbite before morning. At that moment, Emma felt like crying. She hated the fact that her father was a drunk, that he hadn't really cared for them when he married their mother, that her mother left her all alone to care for Michael. She knew her life was spinning out of control, and she was only ten. She looked down at her brother, who was looking back at her with rosy cheeks and a red nose. He was shivering as he hugged her leg.

Emma bent down and squeezed him tight. "Don't worry, Mike. We'll be alright. Once I'm old enough, we're busting out of this place."

Suddenly, she heard the snap of a twig breaking. She turned around and saw Walter standing there, his hands in his pockets. He looked her up and down and said, "Cold tonight. Where's your coat?"

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and asked, "What are you doing out here, Walter?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Came out for a walk and found you and Michael."

"Walter!" Michael squealed, his cherry red face lighting up with joy.

Walter once again nodded at him and looked back at Emma. "Where's your coat?"

"I…uh…dropped it," she said, feeling stupid. She could feel her cheek pulsing heat.

He must have noticed her discomfort, for he slowly walked over and said, "What's wrong with your face?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, looking down at the snow. "I…accidently bumped into a door…"

Walter tilted her head to the side, his eyes wide when he saw her bruise. "Did your father do this to you?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Does it matter? How the hell am I going to explain this to the teacher?"

"Emma, swing," Michael tugged on her sweater sleeve.

"In a minute, Mike," she told her brother.

"You'll freeze before you can even push him," Walter pointed out.

"Well, I can't go back for my coat so— wait, what are you doing?" she demanded as he shrugged off his coat and handed it to her.

"Take it," he said.

Emma stared at it as if it were an alien. "Are you nuts? What about you?" she examined his scarf and wool sweater.

"Fine like this," he replied. "Take the coat before you freeze." Emma reluctantly took his coat and slipped her arms into the sleeves. It smelled like…well, Walter. And smoke. "Sorry about the smell," he said. "My mother smokes a lot, so…"

"It's fine. Thank you," Emma salvaged a smile. "Do you want to stay with Mike and me for a bit? If you don't mind being cold."

"Sure," he nodded.

The three of them made their way over to the swings as the cold nipped at their noses. Emma got Michael settled on his swing and proceeded to push him. Despite the cold, Mike squealed with joy as he gained momentum. Emma couldn't help but smile at her brother's delight. Walter sat on a bench behind them, examining their behavior. They were quite for a while, but he finally spoke up.

"Do you and Michael do this often?" he asked.

Emma didn't turn around, but answered, "Pretty much. Sometimes my dad's fine for a few weeks, but lately he's been really moody."

"Doesn't make it right," he said.

"I know, but that's just the way it is. All I can do is deal with it until I'm old enough to get me and Mike out of here."

"Long time before that happens," he mumbled.

Emma turned around and stared at the boy behind her. She could see his nose and cheeks turning red from the cold and his red hair hanging loosely over his forehead. "What's your mother like?" she asked suddenly.

Walter glanced up and his expression turned hard. "Don't want to talk about her."

"Is she as bad as my father?" Emma pressed on.

"Stop asking, Emma," he locked eyes with her. "She's not worth talking about."

"That bad, huh?"

"Pretty much," he muttered.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we're in the same boat," Emma said as she gave Michael another push. Walter didn't say anything else after that; he just sat there as she pushed her brother. Eventually, the cold became too much to bear. Michael whined to get off the swing and started shivering more violently.

After adjusting Michael's scarf, Emma stood up and turned to Walter. "I think we should go back now. It's getting cold and I don't think Mike can be out here for much longer."

"Are you sure it's safe to go back?" he asked, standing up from the bench.

She nodded. "Should be. My dad's probably passed out on the couch right now. He'll be calm when we go back."

"I'll walk back with you," he said as the three of them started back. It started to flurry a bit as they walked on the sidewalk. Michael tried to catch a snowflake on his tongue as they got closer to home.

"How's the bruise?" Walter asked.

Emma winced as she touched her cheek. "I'll live."

"Ever think of telling someone about your dad? Could get you out of here."

"I can't. Mike and I would be separated, and I have to look out for him," Emma squeezed her brother's hand. "Guess that makes me selfish, huh?"

Walter shook his head. "No. It makes you a good sister."

She smiled at the comment, glad that someone had acknowledged her as that. When they got to the Jones' house, Emma said to Walter, "I'll see you in school tomorrow, then."

He nodded. "See you in school." He turned and walked across the street back to his house.

Emma picked up her brother and brought him inside the house, Walter's words echoing inside her head like bells in a church.


	4. Chapter 4

The bruise on Emma's face took a full week to heal. She tried her best to cover it up with some of her mother's old makeup, but it rarely helped. She had been questioned about the bruise only once, and she managed to fool her teacher with her "I walked into a door" excuse. The teacher looked relieved when she said that, maybe because she didn't want to deal with another child abuse problem. Whatever the reason, Emma was never asked about it again.

Walter had started to talk to Emma more, usually after school when she and Michael were walking home. He always looked at her face from a distance, and then asked how she was. He spoke to Michael when they walked home, and her brother started to adore him. Whenever Royce or Billy was nearby, Walter always glowered at them, and they glowered back. Emma started to get nervous when she walked past them, afraid that Walter was right about them coming after her or Michael.

One day after her bruise had almost healed fully, Emma noticed that Walter wasn't in school. She looked for him constantly, thinking he would walk in late. He didn't. When the day let out, Emma volunteered to deliver Walter's homework since they lived so close to one another. She was worried that something terrible had happened, like Royce and Billy had gotten to him. As Emma waited for Michael to come outside, she wondered what to expect when she went to Walter's house. She'd obviously never been inside, and she had only glimpsed his mother from a far. From the way Walter acted when the subject of his mom came up, she was sure it wouldn't be a pretty picture.

When Michael came outside, she took his hand and started for their street. "Where's Walter?" he asked.

"He was sick today, Mike," she explained. "We're gonna go to his house and give him his homework."

"Okay," he nodded.

Emma didn't want to bring her brother along since she didn't know what to expect, but the thought of leaving home with her father scared her even more. They finally made it to their street and walked down the sidewalk to Walter's house. She looked it up and down, taking in the wooden structure, the tin chimney with smoke rising into the sky, the garbage can lying on the ground. Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she and Michael ascended the steps and knocked three times. She took a deep breath when she heard footsteps approaching the door.

It swung wide open to reveal a middle aged woman wearing a loose black rode and high heels. Emma could tell she had once been pretty, for she had lines on her face and a glaring expression. She was stunned as she took in the two children on the steps. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

"Um, are you Walter's mom?" Emma asked nervously, squeezing Michael's hand.

"What do you want with him?"

"Our t-teacher asked me to deliver his homework for him, since he missed school," Emma held out a brown folder.

Ms. Kovacs snatched the folder from her hands and said, "Thanks."

"Wait," Emma said suddenly before she shut the door.

The woman glanced at her, slightly annoyed. "What?"

"Um, is Walter okay? Is he sick?" she asked. "He rarely misses school, and—"

"My son is none of your concern, kid," she snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, you have no—"

"Mom," said a voice from within the house.

Ms. Kovacs craned her neck to look behind her. "Why are you up?"

"I heard yelling," said Walter as he came into view. When he saw Emma, his eyes widened. "Emma. What are you doing here?" he asked fearfully.

At first, Emma was speechless. When Walter came closer, she saw that he had a purple mark on the right side of his face. It looked fresh and swollen too. Emma swallowed and said softly, "I…brought you your homework from school. Only math problems."

Just then, she heard a man's voice from upstairs. "Sylvia, get your ass back up here! My hour's not fucking up yet!"

Emma shuffled her feet as a realization hit her. She swallowed again and said, "I'm sorry. I should have called first."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," he replied.

His mother glanced at Emma and said coldly, "Is that the only reason you came? As you can see, I'm letting the cold in."

Walter looked towards the folder in his mother's hand, then back at Emma. Michael, who she forgot was with her, peeked inside and said cheerily, "Hi, Walter!"

He nodded at Michael and said, "Thanks for dropping this off." He took the folder as his mother slammed the door in her face.

Emma stood there, her mind trying to process what she had just seen. She took a deep breath and descended the steps, Michael in tow. "Walter okay?" he asked innocently as they crossed the street.

"I don't know, Mike," she replied. "I really don't know."


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, Emma and Michael left their house half an hour before school began. Mr. Jones was sleeping upstairs after a long night of drinking, so they tried not to wake him up. When Emma opened their front door, she saw Walter standing on the sidewalk. He had his book bag slung over his shoulder, the bruise on his face now a darker shade of purple. He looked tired as Emma walked down the steps.

"Hello, Walter," she said, salvaging a smile. "Glad to see you're going back today."

"Morning, Emma, Michael," he nodded his head.

"Hi," Michael grinned.

Emma tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "Shall we go?"

Walter nodded and they all walked down the street. After a few minutes of silence, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry about my mother."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked nervously.

"She's rude. Selfish. Had no right to treat you like that," he looked down at the sidewalk.

"I think I should apologize," she frowned. "I should've called before…popping over like that."

"Don't be." His eyes flashed as he looked at her. "You're a better person than her."

Emma swallowed and said, "Thank you."

They walked without talking for a while longer until Walter spoke up again. "Why aren't you bothered by this?"

"I'm sorry?"she asked.

"You don't seem bothered by the fact that my mother's a whore," he said flatly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Emma felt her blood run cold. She had thought the man upstairs had been his mother's boyfriend or something. "Oh…so, that man…"

He nodded. "He was one of her clients. I'm sorry about that too."

"Don't be. I'm…surprised." It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Everybody on the block knows. Sure your father's been to see her."

Emma's mouth dropped open. "How the hell would you know that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just assuming. Alcoholics can be sex addicts."

"Okay, Walter, please stop." They stopped at the crosswalk. Emma was starting to get angry. "I don't care that your mother…_sells _herself, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say things like that in front of him." She nodded towards Michael. "He's only a child."

"He's going to experience the disappointment the world has to offer one day. Why can't that be now?"

She was shocked. The crossing guard motioned for them to go, so they walked across. On the other side, Emma was still shocked and turned on Walter. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she exclaimed. Several people turned their heads.

"What?" he said.

"My brother is six years old! He doesn't fully understand why our mother isn't around nor does he understand why I drag him to the playground in the dead of night, even when it's below zero! Walter," she held her forehead in her hand. "I'm trying to protect him. Not just from my father, but from this." She motioned to everything.

"What's the point?" he demanded. "You can't protect him forever."

"So long as I am his sister I will try," she stated.

For the first time, she saw that he was speechless. For a moment they both stood there staring at each other, until Michael broke the silence. "Emma! Go school!" he exclaimed, tugging on her sleeve.

She sighed. "Let's go." She looked back at Walter and said, "I don't mean to snap at you, Walter. I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Fine. Don't worry about it." They all went into the school, trying not to think about what the other one had said.


	6. Chapter 6

As a few more weeks passed by, Emma started to take note of a different side of Walter. He became even more quiet and isolated from everyone around him with the exception of her and Michael. He was always looking, always watching those around him like he knew something bad would happen any second. Royce and Billy still hadn't carried out what Walter thought they would do, but every time he saw them he got a look in his eyes that seemed wild, almost psychotic. His behavior scared her a bit, but she was too afraid to say anything.

When the trio was walking home from school, they saw three men on Walter's front steps. They were reading the newspaper or tapping their feet impatiently. Emma saw that look in Walter's eyes again and asked, "Do you know them?"

He shook his head. "No, but I know why they're here."

She quickly got the message. Before Walter could head towards his house, she said quickly, "Do you want to come over for a while?"

He looked at her. "What?"

"If you don't want to go home right now, you could stay at our house for a while. My father's at work so he won't be home until later."

Walter looked at the men outside his house, then back at Emma. "If it's alright with you, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Emma smiled and nodded her head. "Great. Follow me." They crossed the street and went inside her house. The television was still broken from Emma's fight with her father, so she threw a blanket over it. She hastily picked up the few beer cans on the living room table and went into the kitchen to throw them away. "Just make yourself at home," she called to Walter. "Do want something to drink?"

"I'm fine," he assured her.

She walked back into the living room where Walter and Michael were sitting at the table, homework pulled out. She joined them on the floor opened her book bag. "Our television's busted," she stated. "We only have the radio."

"I don't have either," he replied, looking at the table. "My mother sold our radio to pay for cigarettes."

"That's horrible," Emma frowned.

"That's life, I guess," Walter bent over his math homework and began solving problems.

Emma didn't say anything. She only concentrated on her own work as Walter worked silently on his. Michael was drawing a tree on a piece of paper, happily humming to himself. About an hour passed with the only sound coming from Michael's closed mouth and the occasional car passing by. They had finished their homework and were now listening to the radio.

"When do you expect your father to come back?" Walter asked.

Emma sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea. It all depends on how much he's had to drink."

"Has he always been like that?"

She nodded. "My mother claimed that it wasn't always bad, but I think she was trying to protect me. I finally figured out she was lying when she came downstairs with a big bruise on her cheek."

"She sounds like you," he smiled a little.

Emma frowned. "What?"

"Your mother sounds like you. Wanting to protect someone you love and taking a few hits every now and then. I bet you take after her."

She couldn't help but smile. Nobody had ever said that to her or anything along those lines. "Thank you, Walter. That's very kind of you."

He looked up at her. That look she feared wasn't present, but something softer was. He looked truly kind and sincere. She knew Walter never showed emotion like this, so she felt lucky to be the first to see it. As she stared at his heartfelt expression, she jumped as the back door slammed shut. Her eyes grew wide as her father walked into the room, not even bothering to hide his flask. He glanced at her and Michael, then at Walter.

"Who the fuck is this?" he demanded. "A leprechaun?"

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, not even giggling. "N-No, Dad. This is Walter K-Kovacs. He lives across the street."

Mr. Jones stared at Walter, not understanding who he was. Then his expression softened and he chuckled, "So, you're Sylvia's son?" Walter didn't say anything. "I recognize you. Tell your mamma I say hi."

Just then, Emma watched as Walter got that look in his eye. That crazy look that made her scared. He was going to hurt her father; God knows if he'd kill the drunken bastard. She crawled to Walter's side of the table and rested her hand on his arm. He glanced back at her and she whispered, "Walter, please. Don't."

He clenched and unclenched his fists, breathing hard. As Emma tried to mentally calm him down, Mr. Jones looked over at the television and his eyes grew cold. "What the fuck happened to the T.V.?"

Now Emma was scared. "Dad…it's been broken for a while now—"

"Why hasn't anybody fixed it?" he boomed.

"We can't afford it right now—"

"That's no fucking excuse!" he threw his flask at the T.V. "You and that little prick are ruining me!" he pointed an accusing finger at her and Michael.

"He's just a child!" Emma exclaimed, standing on her feet.

"You ungrateful little bitch!" he lunged for Emma. However, Walter was quicker. He blocked Mr. Jones's path and shoved him backward. He fell against the stairs and staggered to get back up.

Walter turned to Emma and she saw that look in his eye. "Get Michael out of here. Now."

She didn't have to be told twice. As Walter held her father off, Emma grabbed Michael's and her own coat and picked him up. He clung to her in fear as she scrambled to get out of the house.

"Walter, come on!" she screamed. Walter was hesitant about leaving, but he grabbed his stuff and the three of them ran down the sidewalk. Luck was on their side, for the sun was still in the sky. Nobody was at the playground when they arrived, so it was quiet. Emma set Michael down and put his coat on him. She put her own on as Michael pulled her towards the swings. She reluctantly put him on one and began to slightly push him.

Walter came up beside her and asked softly, "Are you and him okay?"

She nodded, feeling tears well in her eyes. "Yeah, we're fine." She looked at him and saw a small cut above his right eye. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry about it," he mumbled. "Just a minor injury."

"That bastard!" she exclaimed. "How could he do that?"

"Emma, he's a drunk. It's what they do."

"That doesn't give him the right!" she pushed Michael so hard he nearly fell off his swing.

"Emma!" he squealed.

"Calm down," Walter said. "You can't submit to him."

"I've been living in that hell with him since I was born and I'm about ready to shoot myself in the head," she ran a hand through her hair. "What's the point of living if I can't protect those around me?"

"Look at what's in front of you," Walter suddenly said.

"What?"

"Look at what's in front of you," he pointed to Michael. Emma saw her brother sitting on the swing, shivering in his coat. "You want a reason for living? There it is. _He _is your reason. Your little brother who wouldn't survive in that house without you, and you know it."

Emma sighed. "Walter, please…"

"Listen to me," he demanded. "Emma, I've lived in my own hell too, and not a day goes by that I don't think of ending it all. I've got nothing, _nothing_, to keep me going except for my beliefs. You on the other hand have Michael," he nodded to him. "You need to be strong and take care of him. You don't think you can survive for much longer with your father? I know you can do it."

Emma felt tears fall down her face. "Really?"

Walter nodded. "Yes. You told me that so long as you are Michael's big sister, you'll protect him. You can protect him, Emma. I know you can."

Emma had never, ever heard anybody tell her that. Nobody had ever said that they believed in her, never told her that she could protect Michael. Walter had, and now she saw him in a whole new light.

"Thank you, Walter," she replied, smiling through her tears. "And you know you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?"

She sniffed. "You can live for me and Mike. One day, we'll all bust out of here and leave everything behind."

Walter salvaged a small smile. "I'd really love that."


	7. Chapter 7

Two weeks passed by since the incident with Mr. Jones, and Emma was strangely calm. She went through school with ease and walked home with Walter and Michael every day. Sometimes they would go to the playground when other kids were there as well, so her brother interacted more. She and Walter talked a lot more too. He asked questions about her mother, and she asked questions about his. He even told her a bit about his absent father.

"I never knew him," he stated as they walked home one day. "My mother's only told me that his name was Charlie."

"Do you wonder about him often?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Good riddance."

That was the way it went. Even Mr. Jones grew silent whenever he saw Walter. Emma tensed up when she saw Walter get that look in his eye. She feared that he would eventually take out his anger to the point of killing someone. But one look from her, and he would immediately calm down.

Just when everything seemed to be running smoothly, Royce and Billy re-entered the picture. At school, Emma noticed that the two of them giving her funny looks. Walter noticed too, for he glared at them the entire day and hovered near her like a bee to a flower. As soon as they got out of school, Walter tried to rush Emma and Michael home as fast as he could.

"Walter, what's wrong?" Emma asked worriedly.

"Something's not right," he replied. "We've just got to leave."

"Playground?" Michael asked as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Not today, Michael," Walter said, casting glances over his shoulder.

"Walter, I think you're being a bit paranoid," Emma said as they crossed the street. "Nobody's following us."

"How do you know?"

When they finally reached their neighborhood, Walter turned to Emma and said, "Go inside your house and don't come out."

"Walter, will you please just tell me what's wrong?"

"Emma, please—"

"Look what we have here," Royce said from behind them. They all craned their necks to see him standing there. "The ginger, the bitch, and the baby."

"What do you want?" Emma said nervously, holding Michael to her side.

"What we started," Billy said from behind her.

She whipped her head around as he smacked her across the face. She fell on her knees, never letting go of Michael. Walter grabbed her arm and hoisted her up, trying to shield her and Michael.

"Leave her alone," Walter said coldly. "Your fight is with me, not them."

"Who says?" Royce and Billy said as they back them into a small alley.

Emma began to panic, realizing that Walter's earlier warning had been correct. She looked down at Michael and saw the fear plastered across his small cherubic face. He squeezed her leg tight and started to whimper like a helpless animal. She looked back at the impending threat and said, "Please, if you must punish us, then do it. Please don't hurt my brother."

"Sorry, but the kid's gotta pay too," Billy smirked. "You three need to be made an example of."

"You're pathetic," Walter spat. "You're stupider then her father or my mother!"

"Huh?" Royce scratched his head.

"You mean you didn't know?" Billy inquired. "His mom's a whore."

Royce laughed cruelly. "Really? Did you catch any diseases from her?"

"Nah, he's too much of a retard. Hey, do you think she'd suck my dick for a dollar?" Billy chuckled right before Walter attacked him.

Emma fell against the wall when Walter punched Billy right in his private parts. She heard the _crunch _as he doubled over in pain. Walter then whipped his book bag so it smacked Billy in the side of his head. He fell onto the ground, moaning in pain.

Walter then turned his attention to a horror-stricken Royce. He abandoned his book bag and jumped on top of him, punching his face repeatedly. Emma pressed Michael to her chest as she watched Walter in horror. Then, when she thought it couldn't get any worse, she heard the rip of something thick. Walter sat up on Royce's chest and she saw that he had a piece of Royce's cheek in his mouth. Royce had a hole in his face that was gushing blood. For the first time, Emma saw the look in Walter's eyes. That look of craziness that she tried so hard to prevent had now consumed his very soul.

Walter seemed to realize that Emma was still there. He looked at her holding Michael, and the evil grin on his face faltered. He looked down at Royce and spit out the flesh in his mouth. He slowly got off of his chest and stood up. Emma watched silently, waiting for his next move. He looked back at Emma and closed his eyes.

"Emma," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Emma, you need to go home. Take Michael and go."

"Walter," she got up. "What about you?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. Just go."

"I'm not abandoning you like this," her voice was shaky. "Come back to my house and we'll figure something else. Please."

"Emma, go home," he said louder. They locked eyes and she saw how hard they were. She knew he was serious.

"Fine," she said after a minute of silence. "If you insist." She picked up Michael who was still spooked, and walked around Royce and Billy to their house. She looked back at Walter only once. He was still staring at the damage he had done.


	8. Chapter 8

The next few hours for Emma were hell. She couldn't focus on anything, couldn't answer her homework questions, and couldn't stop pacing the house. Every thirty seconds she would look out her window at Walter's house, waiting to see police or an angry mob or something horrible. She couldn't see Walter from her house, but her best guess was that he was still there. He was still gazing down on what he had done, his eyes completely devoid of emotion.

"Emma?" Michael frowned from his spot on the couch.

She tore her eyes away from the window and said, "Yes, Mike?"

"Why sad?"

She couldn't help but chuckle softly. Nothing got past her brother. "I'm just…anxious, that's all."

"Oh," he replied before returning to his drawing.

Emma continued to look back out the window. She stayed that way for hours until her father came home. He was carrying a paper bag filled with potatoes. "Here's dinner," he dropped it on the floor. "What're you lookin' at?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"If you're lookin' for that Kovacs boy, I'll tell you right now he's in some deep shit."

Emma whipped her head around. "What do you mean?"

Mr. Jones scratched his stomach. "I saw him with some cops on my way. Apparently he beat up two guys, made one of 'em bleed. He'll probably end up going to prison."

"You don't know that," Emma said, her voice shaky. "Maybe he was defending himself."

Her father shrugged. "I dunno. All I do know is that I need a drink." With that, he disappeared up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut.

Emma felt her throat get dry. She knew that her father didn't know what he was saying most of the time, but this was something else. _Could Walter really go to prison? _She thought worriedly. He was only ten, but there were facilities that took troubled kids like that in. The thought of Walter defenseless in a home for troubled children made her chest tighten and her palms sweat.

A few hours later, when night had finally fallen, Emma began to grow tired. Her father was passed out upstairs and she had put Michael to bed. Despite her drowsiness, she refused to fall asleep; not until she saw Walter return home. Her eyes began to grow heavy and she was having trouble keeping them open. She finally decided to go outside. She grabbed her coat and left the house, quietly closing the door. She knew Michael would be safe; her father had taken more whiskey than usual.

Emma trudged up the sidewalk as the snow started to fall. The wind wasn't wild, but the cold nipped her cheeks and nose. The playground came into view so she made her way towards it. The streetlamps were lit and illuminated the rusty swing set and the merry-go-round. She took a seat on one of the swings and sighed. She had learned to ignore the cold, probably from hanging around Walter so much.

As she hung her head and looked down at her feet, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. She looked up and was shocked to see Walter. He looked exhausted, as if he had ran the whole way here. He only looked at her with emptiness in his eyes. Without thinking, Emma got up and wrapped her arms around him. He only leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Oh, Walter, what happened?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

He let out a breath. "Where's Michael?"

"Home sleeping."

"Is it wise to leave him with your father?" he took a seat on a swing.

"He's fine," Emma sat next to him. "Walter, please. What happened? My father saw the police…"

"I know. They came a half hour later. Started asking me questions and called an ambulance. Lots of people came to watch."

"Did they arrest you?"

"Tried to. I took off. Been wandering around for a few hours."

They were silent for a moment, both afraid to ask the next question. Emma swallowed the dryness in her throat and said, "Are you going to run away?"

"I don't know. Thought about it, but I have no place to go." He looked at the ground. "Saw my mother being questioned. Heard something about Child Services."

Emma felt her blood run cold. She said shakily, "C-Child Services?"

Walter nodded. "I think they're going to take me away."

"To prison?"

"No. Probably a home for troubled children."

"Walter…" she whispered, wiping her eyes. "I…I don't know what to say."

"Me neither," he finally looked up at her. "What should I do? What do you think I should do?"

Emma blinked back her tears. "What? Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the wisest person I know. Never met anyone who cares so strongly about their brother or who's brave enough to live with an alcoholic for a father."

"Walter…"

He shook his head. "Don't 'Walter' me. I've never asked you for anything, Emma. Until now. Please, just…tell me what to do."

She couldn't help the tears that fell down her face. Seeing Walter so vulnerable tore a hole inside of her. She wanted him to stay more than anything, to walk with her and Michael to school, to be there when she was sad and hopeless. And yet, she knew why he was so vulnerable right now. His life was just as tough as hers, if not tougher. He was beat constantly by his mother, watching day after day as numerous men came and left his house with sleazy grins on their faces. Such trauma could scar anyone for life.

Emma wanted to be selfish and beg him to find a way to stay, but she surprised herself and said, "I think you should go."

Walter's face was stunned, as if he were expecting something completely opposite. "What?"

"You heard me, Walter. I think you should go," she wiped her cheeks with her coat sleeve. "You have a chance to get out of here, to make a better life for yourself. I think you should let Child Services take you away."

He was silent for a moment. "What about you and Michael?" he finally asked.

"We'll be fine. I'll manage," Emma assured him. "I doubt Royce and Billy will be back anytime soon."

"And your father?"

"I'll deal with him as I always do."

Walter was about to say something, but the sound of a car in the distance stopped him. "Police," he said.

"How do you know?" Emma asked.

"Just know. They're probably patrolling," Walter rose off of the swing, looking off towards the hidden car. "They'll find me eventually."

Emma swallowed, realizing this would be the last time she would ever see him. "I'm sorry, Walter. Nobody deserves the trouble you've been through."

Walter looked back at her. She saw his soft expression and realized that he knew this would most likely be the last time they saw each other. "Emma, can you promise me something?" he asked.

She nodded. "What?"

"Don't stop fighting," he said. "Don't let your father or other people drag you down. Promise me you'll fight any injustice you face."

Emma wanted to laugh, hearing how serious he sounded when he said 'injustice'. But the look on his face made her believe he was dead serious. So she nodded slowly and said softly, "I promise."

He bent towards her and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, Emma."

She felt her tears fall as she whispered, "Goodbye, Walter." She watched as he walked away from the playground, towards the police cars and his uncertain future.


	9. Chapter 9

Saying goodbye to Walter had been the hardest and saddest thing Emma had ever done. After he had disappeared into the night, she slowly walked home, the pit in her stomach growing larger. When she arrived at her house, she saw the police outside of Walter's house. A cop was talking to his mother, writing things down in a notepad. They didn't notice her as she went inside. She trudged up the stairs and collapsed onto her bed. Michael was sleeping across from her, his breathing even and peaceful. She envied him and his innocence.

At school the next day, students and teachers alike were talking about Walter and what he did to Royce and Billy. Nobody even stared suspiciously at her. During class, she couldn't help but stare at Walter's empty desk as if it were on fire. He would never occupy that place again. Her teacher had to ask her several times to pay attention to the front.

She walked Michael home at the end of the day, silently moving along the sidewalk. When they arrived home, she saw Ms. Kovacs putting the trash outside. She glanced at her and Michael with a blank expression and retreated back inside. Emma felt scorn towards her for treating Walter like he was nothing. She was probably glad he was gone.

Every day went by the same way. Emma tried not to think about Walter, but it was hard. She saw little things that reminded her of him, and she heard the things people said about him being taken away. Eventually, talk about Walter Kovacs vanished, and everybody moved on.

The words Walter had said to her echoed inside her mind. _Don't stop fighting. _She treasured them. She quickly grew to realize that he was right. No matter how tough her life got, she could not stop fighting. Emma promised herself to fight for her brother and their freedom. No matter what, they would escape.

**25 Years Later**

Emma was reviewing the psyche profile of one of the prisoners when someone knocked on her office door. "Come in," she said without looking up.

"Geez, must you always be working?" said George, Dr. Long's assistant. "You're turning into a workaholic there, Em."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Prisoners can't help themselves, now can they?"

"Very true."

"Is everything okay? Does Dr. Long need me?"

George shook his head. "No, but I thought you'd want to see who he's mentoring right now."

Emma looked up and saw excitement his eyes. "Who is it?"

"Haven't you been watching the news?" he exclaimed. "They got that vigilante who's still active."

"You mean Rorschach?" Emma said confusingly. "They got him?"

George nodded. "Yeah, and Malcolm is with him right now. Come and watch."

Emma, now excited about this new development, set the folder aside and followed George towards the interrogation room. _I wonder who's been hiding behind that mask for all these years_, she thought as they approached the room.

**To be continued…**


End file.
